


Journey's End

by Opal_Butterfly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opal_Butterfly/pseuds/Opal_Butterfly
Summary: She thought she would never see another kind face again, she's pleasantly surprised when she finds more than one.





	Journey's End

**Author's Note:**

> So character has already happened, completely canon compliant in that regard. I'm not too terribly fond of the ending but endings are hard whether in writing or in reality.

It’s the feeling of the warm sun against her skin that caused Daenerys to wake, which was interesting feat since the last thing she remembered was the feeling of steel running through her body, the biting cold if the air around her and the look of anguish in Jon Snow’s eyes.  She wished she could say that she was shocked at Jon’s betrayal but she knew that he was an honorable man and he wouldn’t have done what he did if he felt he didn’t have any other options. He would have done what he thought best for the realm and she couldn’t entirely fault him for that even though she had felt justified at the time in her actions. 

Sitting up she observed the land around her.  There was something vaguely familiar about the grassland around her, a half distant memory that caused a feeling of nostalgia and longing to well up inside of her.  There was something comforting about the tall grass swaying in the breeze, a clearness to the air that she had missed during her time in Westeros. She could see tendrils of smoke curling into the sky in the distance, not the sort that would have come from a burning city or funeral pyre but more like the smoke that used to come from the Dothraki camps. 

Hesitantly, she moved from her spot on the ground and started making her way toward the possible signs of civilization.  She had barely made it a couple of feet before a familiar hulking figure landed in front of her. “Viserion…” she breathed, tears all of a sudden clouding her eyes.  Gone was the rotting flesh and ominous bright blue eyes and once again her child was whole. Slowly, she reached a hand up to stroke the side of his face, his eyes closing in contentment before abruptly opening them again and staring intently over her shoulder.  Turning to follow his line of sight Daenerys’s breath left her on a sob as she took in the soaring form of Rhaegal. Just like Viserion, Rhaegal was whole, none of the injuries that he had received before his death in King’s Landing maring his body. 

She stood watching as Rhaegal soared past her and continued on toward the curling tendrils of smoke in the distance.  Turning back to Viserion, it seemed to her as though he was impatiently waiting for her to climb up on his back and so she cautiously found a comfortable spot at the base of his neck before he was taking flight after Rhaegal.  She had never flown on Viserion or Rhaegal before, always preferring to have Drogon carry and protect her like his namesake had done before his death. She regretted now, playing favorites with her children, as she could almost feel the playfulness to Viserion’s movements, something that was completely different to Drogon who always seemed so serious to her. 

In no time at all they had approached the camp that had produced the smoke, her mind going blank in shock at the number of Dothraki tents that took up the space.  As Viserion landed close to the edge of the camp she noted that Rhaegal seemed to be guarding a tent that was closer to the center of the camp, all of the tents in that area far enough away for Rhaegal to curl around the tent almost completely without impeding the entrance.  She was distracted but this peculiar sight as she noted movement in her peripheral and turned to take in the individuals that dared to approach her and the dragon that she was still perched on. She could hardly believe her eyes when she realized who exactly it was that was approaching her.  So many familiar faces were surrounding her, most of them from her khalasar that had followed her all the way to Westeros from their homeland only to die in fighting the army of the Night King. One particular face had her flinging herself off of Viserion and straight into arms that easily caught her.

“You did well Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah murmured into her hair as he hugged her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, fresh tears clouding her eyes. 

“I’m not the only one either, we all are proud of our strong Khaleesi but most especially one person,” Ser Jorah told her handing her off to Irri who gave her a brief hug before leading her to the tent that Rhaegal had been guarding.  Daenerys looked at her questionably before ducking into the tent where her legs all but gave out on her at the sight presented before her. There, laying innocently in a nest of blankets, was Rhaego. She would have collapsed to the ground except for the strong arms that wrapped around her.  “He is strong our son, The Stallion The Mounts the World,” a familiar voice growled in her ear.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, her eyes trained on her son, her senses overwhelmed by the figure behind her.  “I have dreamed this once before.”

“This is real, fuck any man who says otherwise.”

Almost reluctantly Daenerys turned around and faced the man behind her.  He looked exactly the same as she remembered, the same aggression and care in his eyes he used to have when looking at her, he even smelled the same though she was hesitant to believe her eyes.  He was everything she remembered yet she was still hesitant to believe, especially after seeing something so similar years before in Qarth. “Drogo,” she whispered, afraid that if she said his name too loud he would disappear.

She took her eyes off of him only when she heard Rhaego whimper behind her.  In the dream from Qarth she hadn’t held her son, only touching his hand before being pulled away toward her dragons.  Now though, she tore herself away from Drogo so as to have the hands to pick her son up and hold him in her arms the way she had longed to since he had been taken from her.  She was aware of Drogo coming around her to sit on the bed beside the nest of blankets that Rhaego had been laying in, the sunlight streaking across his face from a crack in the tent covering.  Distantly she was aware that the sun seemed to be at the wrong angle but she hardly cared for she was at peace for the first time in years.

A rustling behind her produced Missandei and Irri together though in life the two had never met.  “Come Khaleesi, the evening feast will be ready soon.”

“Evening?  But it is hardly midday,” Daenerys replied in confusion.

“Evening Khaleesi,” Missandei told her giving a knowing look for she knew the curse that Mirri Maz Duur had placed on her.

‘ _When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east, when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves_ .’

Thinking back Daenerys could not recall seeing any mountains when she had been on Viserion’s back even though she knew that there had been mountains in Essos and near Vaes Dothrak and if Missandei was true in what she spoke then the sun was setting in the East, away from its normal pattern making all of this real.  It wasn’t until Drogo cupped her face, wiping a tear from her cheek that she realized that she was even crying. “This is real,” she whispered a smile splitting her face. 

Drogo nodded, a rare look of compassion filling his face.  “Moon of my life, you are where you belong. 

Holding Rhaego in one arm and a hand on Drogo’s arm, Daenerys turned to Irri and Missandei, a smile still stretched widely across her face.  “Come let us celebrate for I am home with my Khal and my people and I shall never leave either again.”

  



End file.
